Sexperiments
by anarchic equity
Summary: Well, I guess the titel tells everything. Johnlock. I take requests.
1. The wheelbarrow

**The wheelbarrow**

„Ugh, John. That is highly uncomfortable and I doubt it´s the right way to do this."

"You know what, Sherlock, I was able to deduce this too."

"No reason to snap at me John. Just lift my hips up higher."

"I am trying, but someone gained a little bit of weight earlier and my bad shoulder doesn´t help either!"

"Well, someone would not have gained weight if someone else would not have had the idea of buying various sauces and toppings and feed them to the other someone off his erected cock!"

"Oh, like you didn´t enjoy it!"

John and Sherlock were currently situated on the living room floor on a soft blanket, the door was locked. They had learned their lesson after a few incidents of people running into them while doing things John was not willing to think about being see while doing them.

John was on his knees, inside his lover, holding his hips up high and with a screaming erection and after a round of good old missionary Sherlock was insanely heavy.

Sherlock lay shoulders down on the blanket, the slightly red tip of his penis pointing dangerously at his face.

"Sherlock move! I can´t hold you all day."

"All right. I was just distracted by this unbelievably ugly blanket."

Sherlock tried to brace himself on his elbows and hold the balance, just like in the picture, while John held onto his ass cheeks to hold him steady.

"Hey! I bought that blanket! You sent me to 7/11 in the morning to get that blanket! And it´s the softest I could get!"

"But I also said something about decent colors. You think rose with a lavender hem is decent?"

"This whole thing was your idea! I swear sometimes I wish I´d knew how to shut you up!"

John started to trust lightly and Sherlock gave a soft noise as reply.

Johns´ face lightened instantly.

"Ah, so I knew all the time how to shut you up!"

Sherlock wanted to say something in return, up was detained by another, harder, thrust.

And as soon as John found his rhythm Sherlock unable to say anything but "yes, John, …god …harder …right there, right there!"

**Feel free to suggest anything!**


	2. Shaving

**Shaving**

"John, apparently some couples enjoy shaving each others´ pubic hair. It´s scientifically proven, that pubic hair is a strong transporter of hormones and therefore boosts the longing to have sex. But we already have enough sex, so let´s try that."

Sherlock gave the order and John was happy to oblige.

That is why he found himself twenty minutes later at Tesco, standing before a shelf crammed with various brands of razors and shaving crèmes. He took the cheapest in both cases. First, to conserve the marginal saving on his account, which reminded him of asking Sherlock for the money he owed him for the night in the Hilton. Sherlock had vowed that it was just for a case, but they ended up shagging in the giant bathtub and on the giant bed, John chained to a bedpost. That thought made said doctor giggle, being stared at and feeling stupid in the middle of Tesco. Second, because there was a high possibility that the great detective had already given up on his idea and was following another trace to orgasm.

As he came home, John feared that exactly this was the case, since his boyfriend wasn´t waiting for him in the living room.

John scowled slightly.

"John!"

"Sherlock?"

"Bathroom!"

And there he was.

Naked like the day he was born.

Except for his grey socks.

Already half hard.

"Let´s get it on!"

Sherlock took a seat on the toilet bowl and spread his legs wide.

John liked the view. Yes, definitely, he did.

He carefully applied the white crème onto Sherlocks´ skin, who made a hissing sound as the cool gel touched him. John handled the razor even more carefully, as he shaved a tiny piece of Sherlocks´ sensitive porcelain.

John looked into Sherlocks´ eyes quickly, who nodded encouragingly.

So John shaved every bit of pubic hair off of Sherlock, with the precision only a man, who had handled scalpels, could call his own.

It was nice, being that close to his boyfriends´ cock, the feeling of might, being able to hurt him with every move and of course the feeling of Sherlocks´ smooth skin, as he licked between his cheeks, as he jerked him off. It was nice, but nothing more.

As they woke the next morning, Sherlock was ready to present his expertise:

"I liked the feeling of the razor against my skin and you, touching my shaved areas was most amazing, but sadly I have to tell you that, as good as your skills as a barber are, I grew bored of the sensation after about five minutes."

John wanted to say something, but suddenly Sherlock added "What bothers me most is the uncomfortable tickling in my crotch.", like he only noticed it now.

John lifted the blanket and the lovers stared at the red, slightly swollen spots, where the pubic hair started to grow, on Sherlocks´ former smooth area.

"Honey, you don´t take shaving that well." said John lightly.

Sherlocks´ face was a picture of true horror.

**"It´s a boy!" has finally come to it´s end. Hope my writing improves as time goes by. See ya!**


	3. Snogging

**Snogging**

Sherlock was the first person John had actually really snogged with.

Sure, there had been a few girls in high school and uni and even one guy from combat training, but Sherlock had been the first he really enjoyed snogging for hours, without asking himself how long this had to go on until he has finally welcomed into this panty.

When being with Sherlock, you just felt like the most powerful man in the world. A brilliant consulting detective, a high functioning sociopath, a man how was able to amaze you with every word he said, laid his heart into your hands and his whole being seemed to be at your mercy.

It were exact these thoughts simmer in Johns´ mind, as he snogged Sherlock senseless on his bed.

They had both peeled away every layer of clothing long ago.

A thin sheet covering them and separating their most private places.

One arm around each other, the other lovingly caressing soft chests.

Johns´ lips were already slightly numb, maybe swollen, but Sherlocks´ were too.

And they kept kissing and nibbling and biting.

Every few moments their fingers tightened, craving for more, the closeness they already shared not nearly being enough.

Tongues were sloppily exchanged.

Hot breaths could be felt against ones´ skin.

Sweat emerged from every pore, being ignored.

Hands were run through thick hair, pulling the other mouth closer.

Nipples were tweaked and rubbed.

Feelings were shared, which couldn´t be told.

And eyes needn´t be opened.


	4. Bathtub

**Bathtub**

"It is just for a case!"

That´s what Sherlock said as he dragged John by the hand into the Hilton.

The poor concierge, naïve newly wed, to-be father of a girl, looked them over from head to toe as they checked in, two blokes with British accent, no luggage, demanding a double room in the middle of London. John could almost hear him declaring, that this is no love hotel, and he fought back the urge to explain himself. After all he was in the presence of the worlds´ only consulting detective, and it was just for a case.

John got suspicious. Sherlock didn´t ask for a special room number, or floor, and a nightly trip through hotel floors seemed out of question, since Sherlock hadn´t emerged from the bathroom for two hours now.

Watching Doctor Who on the big hotel TV has nice, but slowly John got worried. Maybe Sherlock had drowned himself "for a case" in the giant hotel bathtub.

"Honey, are you all right in there?" John asked, feeling a little insecure.

"I am more than all right." Came Sherlocks´ purring answer.

"What…?"

"You might as well come in, love." More purring.

Johns´ jumper was almost instantly soaked through, as he entered the steam filled bathroom. As soon as his eyes had adjusted to the dimmed light, he saw him. A vision of Sherlock with flushed cheeks, full pink lips, erect nipples, hands barely hiding his smooth chest. Like Aphrodite he stood in the shell-shaped bathtub, giving the image of a young god. The light was reflecting from his moist skin, the shadows marking his strong biceps, and single drops of water fell from his dark locks.

"I need you to fuck me now, John."

Well, this Aphrodite had a not-so-god-like mouth.

"It´s for a case." Sherlock clarified.

John was out of his clothes within seconds.

After all, he did everything for a case.

**To be continued.**


	5. Mirror

**Mirror**

John had never seen anything more erotic.

Sherlocks eyes staring back at him. His lips swollen and pink. The area around his nipples an angry shade of red. His chest heaving. His jaw trembling. His hands white from the effort of holding onto the rim of the tub.

John was pounding in and out and in and out of him from behind, feeling his lover shudder with every thrust. His hands held onto Sherlocks hips tightly, keeping him from thrusting his arse backwards onto the cock penetrating him, keeping him from coming, torturing him.

And it was hard, oh so hard, to not let Sherlock lead. Because Sherlock was good, when he was leading. He was brilliant.

But John had ordered himself to keep being in control. He was supposed to be angry, because Sherlock had dragged him into a hotel (and made him pay!) for seemingly no reason. He should be angry. Only problem: He wasn´t. Yes, maybe a little grumpy about the waste of money, but Mycroft would pay him back like always without John ever knowing how his in-law even found out about such things.

But his honey needed to be taught a lesson and John would do it for God's sake!

So he kept slowly pressing in, almost agonizingly slow and after a short pause he pulled out even slower.

Sherlock bit him lips and whimpered, spreading his legs a little wider, silently begging for John to give him more.

As John buried his cock into him to come to a rest against his balls, going in as deeply as possible, Sherlock jelled sharply, threw back his head slightly and closed his eyes.

It required all of Johns willpower to keep from fucking his lover ´till he saw stars. John wrapped an arm around Sherlocks hips, helping him to stay buried inside, and stopped thrusting completely.

"Sherlock, you know your orders." He said, his tone commanding.

"…John… I can´t…" Sherlock tried to lay the back of his head on Johns shoulder, but John scooted away as much as possible, making Sherlock unable to reach him.

"Keep your hands on the rim, face forwards, eyes open."

And after a little hesitation he added: "I want to see it." Whispering into his loves ear.

Sherlock pouted but did what he had been told.

John started moving again, making the water splash against their chest.

He knew he wasn´t going to last long, with Sherlocks gaze piercing into him through the fog clouded mirror.

**Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review if possible and check out my other works as well. See ya!**


	6. Handcuffs

**Handcuffs**

„John please, give it to me!" Sherlock begged, holding his hips up as high as possible, supporting them with his shoulder blades and feet on the mattress.

John couldn´t help but staring at him.

He had just come out of the shower after their slow love making in the bathtub and an excellent orgasm at the end, now cleaned and dry and in the prospect of cuddling with his lover in bed or picking locks of other hotel rooms (whatever the detective desired). But instead he found said detective, completely naked, offering himself to him.

And cuffed.

How the hell was it even possible for him to get himself cuffed to the headboard?

Surely John would have noticed someone coming in.

Or did his lover call the room service?

"A bottle of champagne and two glasses please. Oh! And could you cuff me to the bed?"

No. He wouldn´t have done that.

But it _was_ Sherlock, he was thinking about.

"John!"

The doctor snapped out of his thoughts with a little shake of his head.

Sherlock stared at him, looking rather unhappy with not having his full attention.

John had, somehow, already made his way from the bathroom to stand directly in front of Sherlock´s welcoming genitals, eyeing them with eager anticipation. The emotion already showing itself between his legs.

"What?" He tried to say as innocently as possible.

"Would you now be so kind and fuck me?" Sherlock wriggled his hips teasingly at him, but the question sounded more like a demand and the look on his face betrayed his words.

John couldn´t help but smirk.

Hell, he... really liked Sherlock.

But when Sherlock was this bossy, it was time to play.

"How did you get yourself cuffed there?"

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows but answered eventually. "Not a big deal. They are Lestrade´s. Already worn out enough to wriggle through." He shortly pulled a face of disgust, and then put on, what he assumed, was a sexy look.

"Now _please_ shove your cock into me."

John could see Sherlock´s effort to hold himself up. His muscles were already shaking.

I have to apologise to Greg again, he thought, grinned lopsidedly and got onto the bed, hands first, crawling.

John got on top of his lover, almost like embracing him, licked Sherlock´s lips once, then dipped in for a short kiss. Just their moist lips touching lightly. And the detective was wax between his fingers.

Sherlock, having dropped his hips to let John near him, raised them again to create friction as their faces parted.

John sat back on his heels. They held eye contact until John´s fingers entered Sherlock´s relaxed hole. He let his back drop onto the mattress, closed his eyes and sighed dreamily.

"John..." He said.

But his silence seemed to say much more.

**Please tell me what you think!**


End file.
